


Work for Idle Hands

by hauntedjaeger (saellys)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Gen, Rescue Missions, Reunions, Sparring, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saellys/pseuds/hauntedjaeger
Summary: After all that. After making her believe that there might be people in this galaxy who weren’t just out for themselves. “You must be awful strapped for cash,” Cara says, mouth twisting with the bitterness of it.His hand settles on his blaster. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”That probably intimidates other people, but Cara has fought him to a standstill. She knows his moves. Moreover, she’s seen him walking stiff first thing in the morning, his knees paining him.“Let’s not,” says Cara, and she kicks her table over.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 266





	Work for Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I can barely cope with my anticipation for Cara to return to the show, so I wrote the reunion they probably won't have. 
> 
> The title is from Hadestown.

Cara really thought this planet would work out. 

She developed a taste for the farming life, so she signed on yanking tubers for a season. Made some friends, got a nice little hut all to herself. It’s pretty here, not Sorgan-pretty, though it has its charms. She doesn’t keep a blaster on her anymore, but she hasn’t stopped wearing her gauntlets and collar yet. Not quite ready to take them off. 

It’s evening and she’s settling in at the local with a tureen and a mug, ready to watch Neri dominate the crokin board, when in he walks, and every head turns. 

“Hey, Mando,” she says. Something tamps her swell of surprise and gladness, and makes her wary. It’s a feeling that’s never steered her wrong before. “You want some soup?” 

Maybe it’s his posture, or maybe that she doesn’t see his kid anywhere. Maybe that's not even him in there. Whatever it is, it’s off, and she knows why soon enough. “Cara Dune,” he says without inflection. He tosses something onto her table, and it lights up: a puck displaying her face. 

After all that. After making her believe that there might be people in this galaxy who weren’t just out for themselves. “You must be awful strapped for cash,” Cara says, mouth twisting with the bitterness of it. 

His hand settles on his blaster. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” 

That probably intimidates other people, but Cara has fought him to a standstill. She knows his moves. Moreover, she’s seen him walking stiff first thing in the morning, his knees paining him. 

“Let’s not,” says Cara, and she kicks her table. 

The edge of it catches his legs and forces him back. Soup, ale, and puck all arc skyward. Cara gets up and takes a stride toward him—not enough room for a running start, but enough to put momentum behind her kick. 

He pushes the table out of the way, and twists enough for her boot to glance off. When Cara stumbles to one side of him, he grabs the back of her collar, turning her toward the booth. 

He kicks out the back of her knee. Cara lands hard against the bench. He bars his arm across her shoulders, and this is probably the part where he brings her in cold. She feels his helmet against the back of her head. 

“They took the kid,” he says softly. “Make this look good.” 

That won’t be a problem, what with the directionless rage that suddenly fills her. She snaps her head back, and he lets go of her and staggers away. Cara drops to one hip on the floor and sweeps his legs. 

He hits the ground, and there is a smattering of applause. She’s made some friends here. Cara jabs the inside of the arm wearing the vambrace, to numb it. She plants her knee in the middle of his breastplate, and goes for his throat—wants to throttle him just a little, for letting this happen. How could he be so careless? 

He grabs at her wrist with his working hand, beats her arm with his fist, but lets his hand drop when he can’t dislodge her. Cara leans into it, getting right down to his helmet. She hopes he can see the  _ you wanted it to look good _ in her eyes.

Then she hears the whine of a blaster being primed, like a small insect at her ear. 

She lets go, panting, and sits back. Keeps her wrists close together for the binders he produces. Cara glances toward the crokin board, where two of Neri’s brothers hold on to her to keep her from rushing them. She meets Neri’s eyes and gives her a tiny shake of the head. 

The Mandalorian grabs Cara’s collar again. She lets him pull her off him and shove her to the exit. No one else protests; no one has the means to stop it. Like other farmers she could name, these are not a warlike people. 

Cara keeps her eyes down and her shoulders high. Even though this is a farce, she feels the fight leave her, replaced by soreness. A loss is a loss. 

“Could have just asked,” she says once they’re out in the night air and the door slides shut behind them. 

He keeps up the charade for anyone watching from a distance--pokes his blaster muzzle into the small of her back until she walks toward the _Razor Crest_. “Taking your puck was the fastest way to find you.” 

And the farmers will be talking about this for weeks, long enough for any heat on his tail to conclude that he’s given up on the kid, and he wants to get back into the business. “Who took him?” 

“The Imperial remnant.” 

Kriff. “That’s going to be a lot more than one AT-ST.” 

“Yes.” 

“Who else is coming?” 

No answer. 

They reach his ship, and as soon as the ramp closes behind them, he removes her binders. “Mando,” she says, “am I the only person you can trust?” 

He faces her, a blank surface on which she can project anything, or a void that swallows everything. 

They are _karked._

The Mandalorian goes up to the cockpit, and Cara follows. She moves to sit in the jumpseat, but then she sees the empty carrier attached to it, and she stays standing. “What about your people?” 

He starts spooling up the engines, flipping switches. The lights reflect off his helmet and pauldrons. The _Crest_ ’s shifter is missing its knob. “The Tribe revealed themselves to defend the kid once before. I won’t ask them to do it again--not to the Empire.” 

Cara gets it, or thinks she does. She can’t help being disappointed anyway. “We could really use maybe... five or six more of you.” 

“Feeling’s mutual.” 

“Uh-uh. There’s only one of me, pal.” What she wouldn’t give for a few Pathfinders, though. 

He makes no response to her attempt at humor, but he does glance at her before activating the repulsors. “Last chance. You can go back, tell everyone you escaped.” 

She will not leave that kid in the Empire’s clutches, and she will not make him do this alone. Cara folds her arms, stays silent. The _Crest_ ’s engines light up, and they rise out of the atmosphere. 

If she makes it through this, she owes Neri a message to explain. If she doesn’t make it… well. Dead is dead, and as goodbyes go, it was easier than most. Life doesn’t dole out much in the way of closure, or heroic legacies. Being remembered as a mediocre farmhand who was taken away in binders isn’t the worst thing that could happen. 

“Always figured I’d go out surrounded by stormtroopers.” 

His reflection in the canopy watches hers. “They say you only need a sharp stick in your hand to die an honorable death.” 

Hell, Cara only needs her fists. “We are gonna make an effort to not die, though, right?” Bleak proverbs aside, it’d be a shame for him to never make it back to Sorgan. Cara wouldn’t mind seeing it again, too. 

The Mandalorian nods once, and sends the  _ Razor Crest _ into hyperspace. 

A mission is a mission, and once she accepts the odds, everything that comes after is almost easy. 

“Good,” says Cara. “What’s the biggest gun you have?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on Tumblr at @hauntedfalcon.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Work for Idle Hands [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22977244) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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